


The Thrill is in the Kill

by nu-exo (Nekohime)



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Serial Killers, Anal Sex, Blood and Violence, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, M/M, Murder Husbands
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-28
Updated: 2020-10-28
Packaged: 2021-03-09 06:08:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,377
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27240070
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nekohime/pseuds/nu-exo
Summary: This...thingHendery and Lucas did was many things.A challenge.A hunt.But most of all, it was a game.A game they were good at.
Relationships: Wong Kun Hang | Hendery/Wong Yuk Hei | Lucas
Comments: 14
Kudos: 127





	The Thrill is in the Kill

**Author's Note:**

  * For [violetpeche](https://archiveofourown.org/users/violetpeche/gifts).



> Happy (slightly late) birthday friend!!!
> 
> *Please mind the tags and the archive warning!

**The Fifteenth**

Hendery followed the trail of broken brush and disturbed dirt, familiar enough with the woods surrounding the area to track the slight differences in the terrain, even in the dark.

He moved silently, eyes wide and searching, a small, giddy, unbidden smile curling the corners of his mouth.

Adrenaline was rushing through his veins, liquid lightning urging him forward, keeping his senses sharp to the sounds and shadows surrounding him—aware of what belonged, and what didn’t.

Like a low whine and the sharp snap of a branch.

Hendery went still, the knife he was holding at his side—casual but firm, a practiced grip—nearly humming with his excitement like a tuning fork, flashing white where it was still clean when it caught a spare trickle of moonlight.

He waited, muscles tensing, lowering himself slowly into a crouch.

The wind rustled through the trees overhead, a whisper of movement that brushed through Hendery’s hair, over his skin. A cool caress from the night.

And then, to his right, a little ways off and obscured by thick, rough tree trunks: a grunt followed by a choked off sob.

It was muffled, likely pressed into a dirty, chill nipped hand, but unmistakable.

Hendery grinned, feral and sharp, slipping into motion again without a sound.

The man, when Hendery found him, was crawling forward on his stomach, one of his ankles twisted at an odd angle that suggested a very bad misstep somewhere in the man’s mad dash towards the woods.

He was whimpering and whining as he pulled himself along with his arms, clothes stained dark from where Lucas had already gotten him. Knuckles bloody from where he’d gotten Lucas back.

Hendery narrowed his eyes at the man’s hands, still going unnoticed thanks to the pick-up in leaf shaking wind covering his even breaths and the soft crinkle of forest floor underfoot.

He looked at the man’s hands, and decided he didn’t like them.

Not only had they hit Lucas across the face when the man had realized he was the one trapped, and not the other way around, but they’d also left unwanted touches across Hendery’s back, his arms, his hips—all coupled with a sleazy leer and a promise of violence, poorly disguised and hilariously misguided, flickering through the man’s eyes.

“I guess that’s what I’ll take,” Hendery said into the night, dropping onto the man’s back with his knees on either side of the man’s waist, bringing his knife down in a single, smooth motion, aiming for the unguarded bit of the man’s back just above the shoulder blades.

The man screamed, scared, howling like a dying animal.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” Hendery said, tone mild, almost conversational, as he pressed the knife in hilt deep, twisting it with a satisfied grunt. “I punctured your lung just now. You’re gonna want to save your breath.”

The man screamed again, thrashing under Hendery’s hold, trying to buck him off with his fading strength. Hendery was expecting it, though, and he’d had time and practice to perfect how he grappled with someone, how he pinned the body and twisted limbs so that movement was nearly impossible.

He was—as a point of pride—better at this part than Lucas. Cleaner, more precise, _ruthless_ where Lucas leaned towards brutal.

When he pulled out his knife, it was to bring it up and under the line of the man’s jaw, cutting in and slicing in a curve towards the man’s ear. Hendery made sure to dig in deep and put a little strength into the motion, slicing through tendon and muscle, cleaving a path to and through the right carotid as he went.

Blood splattered back onto Hendery’s face and splashed over his hand, warm and thick, making the grip on the knife handle slippery. Hendery sighed, wiping his hands on the back of the man’s shirt while he made wet, desperate gurgling noises under Hendery’s weight, his panicked heart pumping out precious spurts of blood that would never make it to the man’s brain or lungs.

Hendery shushed him, carding his free hand through the man’s hair, then grabbing a handful to give his head a firm shake.

“You know,” Hendery started, pushing the man’s head forward with a shove and standing with a soft groan—his joints creaking with the effort. “A little human decency,” he moved around to crouch in front of the man, trailing the edge of his knife along the skin of the man’s arm, “would’ve gone a long way.”

The man tried to turn wide, watery eyes on Hendery, body inevitably giving out and leaving him unable to do anything but lay there as his blood pulsed out in smaller and smaller spurts.

“All you had to do was play nice while you stayed in _our_ establishment, and leave to be an asshole somewhere else.” Hendery pressed the point of the knife down, slicing through skin, and carved the blade in an arc that followed the natural curve of the man’s forearm. “Then, you could’ve lived a little longer.” He slid his knife back out and repeated the action on the other side. “Probably.” Hendery smiled. “It was Lucas who decided to kill you, after all, so, you never know.”

The man made a sound that might’ve been a whimper, but came out more a weak dying wheeze.

“Don’t worry,” Hendery purred, finishing his initial cuts to one arm and moving onto the other. “You won’t feel the worst part.”

**The First**

The first time hadn’t been on purpose, but it hadn’t really been an accident either.

Neither Hendery nor Lucas had set out that morning—sunny, balmy like the northern midwest tended to be, the first day of summer vacation before college started in the fall—with the intention of killing anyone. It just sort of...happened.

Sort of.

They’d gone out with a group of friends—friends being a word used lightly, considering a few of the people present were known class bullies who basked in the protection popularity afforded them.

It was the type of thing Lucas got invited to by virtue of being the soccer team captain, while Hendery was the chill type of social who didn’t have enemies in the same vein that he didn’t have many _close_ friends. Besides Lucas. So he was expected to tag along, and welcomed enough.

They walked up into the woods, jostling each other and horsing around as they followed a well-worn path to a lake area frequented by the town’s teenage population. It had a small shore where towels could be laid out and coolers dropped after the trek, natural privacy from rocky walls that sloped up around it, and perches from where you could jump into the water—if you were so inclined to take the risk of cracking your head on the lake bed.

It was supposed to be fun. Could’ve been, even if seeing girls flutter hands along Lucas’s biceps wasn’t Hendery’s idea of a good time. Even if Lucas stuck to his side like glue, always a bit more hyper-focused on Hendery’s everything than was technically normal for someone who was still just a friend. A friend Hendery had swapped spit and rushed handjobs with, but a friend nonetheless. 

It was supposed to be fun, and it could’ve been, which is why Hendery sometimes wondered what trajectory his life would’ve taken if the boys hadn’t all split off from the girls, everyone jittery with excitement and their own plans.

It probably wouldn’t have been too different. There’d always been a little whisper of darkness, of cruelty, slipping through Hendery’s mind, telling him that sometimes violence was the answer. He’d have killed eventually. Of that he’s relatively sure. His life might not have had Lucas star so prominently in it, though. And that would have sucked.

As it was, though, the boys—feeling grown with the newfound sense of freedom graduation seemed to offer them—gathered up on one of the ridges overlooking the lake. The highest point you could jump from and still usually emerge from the water alive and well, a favorite spot for adrenaline junkies and bullies with mean smiles.

Once up there, removed from any watchful eyes that could provide caution, the now-former football team captain—Gareth something, who was faceless at this point in Hendery’s memories—had suggested they throw someone in.

“It’ll be fine!” he said, smiling wide, sun glancing off the mess of hay colored hair sticking up on his head, trying to convince the group that had gone reasonably wary at the suggestion. “It’ll be fun!”

And that, to everyone, sounded like a lie. 

But no one was going to voice that, because Gareth-something was built like a bull and already zeroing on a target, yanking and pulling at one of his friends who’d face had gone panicked in the face of very real danger.

His friend, built slighter but still strong, managed to pull free with a strained smile, laughing uneasily and breathing a sigh of relief as Gareth immediately changed targets, grinning like madman while he lunged for Hendery.

Hendery, at eighteen, was not big—not that he got much bigger later in life—which meant that when a big paw closed tight around his wrist, dragging Hendery despite him trying to dig his heels in,loud laughter echoing off the water far below, Hendery could only do so much.

The thought flashed, bright and vivid, that he could push Gareth. Shove him right over the edge he wanted to toss others over so badly.

The urge filled his lungs, swirling thick with anger at being manhandled, everyone watching nervously, too chicken-shit to step in and stop the disaster about to happen. He would’ve done it, too, if he wouldn’t have probably gone over the edge along with big, dumb, cruel Gareth.

But then Lucas was at Hendery’s back, a strong arm wrapping around his waist to haul him back while he held Gareth away with the other.

“The fuck, man?” Gareth demanded, looking genuinely offended at his fun being ruined.

“ _Back off,_ ” Lucas growled, pulling himself to his full height, glaring down the solid two inches he had on Gareth with a curled lip.

Gareth, stupid, stupid Gareth, who’d never noticed the flickers of manic light that occassionally passed through Lucas’s eyes—muted by his generally friendly demeanor—glared right back, shoved at Lucas’s chest, and sneered out: “Or fucking what?”

Lucas punched him hard across the face, a burst of violence that startled the others into action, everyone suddenly pushing and shoving and trying to hold Lucas and Gareth apart. They were both strong and pissed, though, slowly shuffling closer to the edge of the drop while everyone shouted for them to stop, to chill, to _watch out!_

And then Gareth was tripping, arms pinwheeling, heel catching on the foot Hendery had stuck in his way amongst the chaos.

His eyes went wide, someone screamed, and when he tipped back over the edge, no one reached out to help him.

Gareth-something, former football star, smacked straight into a rock before landing in the blue-green lake waters below. The girls on the shore screamed, startled and then horrified all at once.

The guys up on the ledge stared down at Gareth’s body, and, not knowing who’d been the final straw—who’d technically killed him, _if_ any of them had really killed him—silently decided it had been an accident.

A horrible, horrible accident.

Gareth had wanted to jump, cocky and sure, and, well, he’d just...slipped.

It’s happened before.

They’d be believed.

Silent and traumatized, they all made their way back down to where cell reception would work to call the police, some of the girls sobbing loudly for someone who probably hadn’t given a single shit about them.

Silent and thinking, Hendery stayed close to Lucas, his heart racing away in his chest, adrenaline he knew didn’t belong coursing through his veins.

 _Did Lucas see what I did? Did Lucas_ know _? If he did—if he does, will he leave m—_

Lucas slipped his hand into Hendery’s, curling his fingers in a light clasp.

Hendery looked up at him and felt his breath catch in his throat. Mirrored in Lucas’s features, striking and beautiful, was the same sort of animal satisfaction Hendery felt rippling through him in growing waves.

No regret. No fear, or repulsion. Only the acknowledgement and pleasure of knowing what they did. Knowing that they’d get away with it.

Hendery bit his lip against the manic smile threatening to paint his face, instead returning the tight hold of Lucas’s hand with a sharp squeeze of his own.

Man, he’d never wanted to kiss Lucas more.

**The Fourth**

They’d figured out something that worked for them. A pattern, a system, a way to satisfy the dark, angry hunger that prowled like a beast through Hendery’s gut and flashed briefly across Lucas’s sweet face.

The key to it was: no one with a record, no one they had outward beef with, and no traces left.

Simple.

From there, they could take turns picking.

At least, that’s how it was supposed to work.

“Him,” Lucas said, walking close to Hendery, bumping shoulders as their class hiked through the woods a few miles from their college campus, the dense green familiar even though it wasn’t. They’d picked a school three cities over from the one they’d grown up in, but in the middle of nowhere, the scenery tended to be pretty much the same throughout. “I’m picking him.”

“I thought we agreed no one close to us,” Hendery said, keeping his voice low.

“He’s not.”

“He’s in our _class_.”

“He,” Lucas said, voice taking on an edge as he darted a look up at where Kyle Green—resident asshole extraordinaire—was walking, “is a fucker. And he deserves to have a little fear of God put into him.”

Hendery sighed through his nose, unable to disagree but also wary of killing someone with a much more traceable link to them. They hadn’t gotten caught so far by following their established rules and spacing out their hunts, only picking someone when the urge got strong enough, when the energy humming under their skin was too loud to ignore. And then, still, they were _careful_.

“Fine,” Hendery eventually told him. He tilted his head up to look Lucas in the eye, feeling a lick of thrill flick through his gut. “If you want to take the risk, then at least make it count.”

Lucas smiled, sweet and boyish even as his eyes darkened to a dangerous glimmer.

“I can work with that.”

And he did.

Lucas, without ever stepping into the light himself, without ever claiming or being linked back to anything that transpired, _terrorized_ Kyle Green.

Hendery observed, amazed, as Lucas slowly turned the guy—whose sealed school record and swirling rumors meant there were many who didn’t like him and much he was keeping buried—into a paranoid mess.

Kyle, red-faced and angry, turned on his friends, lashed out at classmates, even snapped at teachers.

Eventually, in front of a big enough, very wary crowd, Kyle threatened to leave. 

(As if his presence were a blessing in the first place.)

Then, Lucas made his move, Hendery coming along to help and keep an eye out as needed.

“There can’t be anything to recognize him by,” Hendery told Lucas, tapping his thumb against the handle of the pocket knife held tight in his grip, staring down at the still warm body lying at his feet.

Lucas grinned, face flecked with blood and covered in a sheen of sweat. His shirt was equally drenched and sticking to his chest, clinging to the ridges of his muscles in a way that had Hendery’s toes curling in his shoes, lust seeping through his system slow and hot.

“I know,” he said. He wiped a wrist across his forehead, swiping at the sweat dripping down into his eyes, accidentally smearing a streak of sweat-thinned blood across in the process. “Wanna help?”

Hendery nibbled at his lip, the thud of his heart picking up in his chest. He knows this type of thing didn’t get his pulse racing, once upon a time. Recently, though, he could remember that _Before_ less and less.

“Sure,” he breathed, dropping into the damp dirt. “I’d love to.”

And like that, Kyle Green was no more.

**The Tenth**

A year after college, Hendery’s grandmother—the only family he had left—passed away, leaving him a house too big for him to upkeep on his own, and a small not-quite-an-inn business she was running out of it.

Hendery and Lucas, living out of a studio apartment a state away and itching to move, took the home with a grateful heart and set to turning it into a proper Bed and Breakfast.

Even with help from the others in town who loved Hendery’s grandmother and cared for Hendery by relation, it was rough.

It put strains on Hendery and Lucas’s relationship—strains that were amplified by the dual knowledge of what they both looked like dismembering a body and burning remains. But, once things were settled and running, they got better.

Great, even.

The town was small, and protective of its residents, all of whom were disorientingly kind and mostly fell into the grandchild or grandparent category.

It felt like a breath of fresh air.

“ _Lucas_ ,” Hendery hissed, nails digging into the meat of Lucas’s shoulders, head tipping forward, a broken moan ripping from his chest, “ _Fuck_.”

“You don’t need to be quiet,” Lucas panted, breath hitting hot and damp against Hendery’s temple, lips brushing against sweat slick skin. “It’s just us— _ah_ —no one—no one will hear.”

Hendery whined, high and loud in his throat, conscious of the living room windows they’d left open because of how nice breeze had been all day. The precursor of what would be brisk fall weather and another round of holiday travelers.

He rolled his hips down into Lucas’s lap, getting Lucas’s cock in as deep as he could, sparks of white hot pleasure dancing down his spine and tingling in his fingers, his toes, at just how _full_ he felt with Lucas in him. How _stretched_ he was on Lucas’s girth, sat flush in Lucas’s lap.

“This— _ha_ —this doesn’t mean— _fuck_ , yeah, there—that I approve,” Hendery managed, panting out his words, his cock hard and trapped between their bodies, rubbing against Lucas’s abs with every jostling thrust up, drooling precum onto their skin. “You— _ah_ —shouldn’t have killed that one.”

Lucas grunted out a sound of apology, fucking swiftly up into Hendery’s pliant body, biting into the muscle of Hendery’s shoulder when a particularly hard thrust had Hendery’s body tightening up around him.

“I know,” he huffed out, kissing a sloppy line up Hendery’s neck, over the edge of his jaw and cheek, until he made it to Hendery’s mouth. “Couldn’t—couldn’t let him go though.” His grip on Hendery’s hips, bruising and wonderful, spasmed as Hendery swiveled his hips down to meet Lucas’s thrust and _clenched_. “He tried to—you—I couldn’t.”

And, well, Hendery got that. 

He traced over the bandages he’d applied to the scrapes Lucas had gotten dragging the now dead man back to their home—the man who was lying, cold as stone and going into rigor in the other room, his feet just poking into view. Hendery would have to re-clean and re-apply them, one of the bigger cuts Lucas had already open again dribbling blood to mix with sweat and run pink against the warm honey-gold of Lucas’s skin.

Hendery’s eyes fluttered, a gasp slipping free from parted lips.

If he’d been in Lucas’s place—no, he had been, and he’d done worse than snap a man’s neck.

So he got it. He really did.

Hendery rode Lucas hard, his knees aching from where they were pressed against the hardwood floor, slipping slightly from the sweat collecting on his skin. He fucked back onto Lucas’s cock, meeting each thrust with a determination to see Lucas come first, to see this beautiful man who’d kill for him come apart under him, _because_ of him.

He told him as much, whispering the words into the heated air encircling them, thick with the smell of sweat and sex. Praises and pleas spoken against Lucas’s open, panting mouth, moaning sweetly in encouragement when Lucas moved one of his hands from Hendery’s hip to wrap hot and tight around his aching cock.

Lucas did come first the way Hendery had wanted, caught off guard by Hendery letting drool fall from his mouth to dribble over his own cock, making Lucas’s grip on him wet and sloppy. He tipped over the edge with wide, stunned eyes and a stuttered groan falling free from a dropped jaw, spilling deep inside Hendery in hot spurts without the buffer of the condom they’d decided to go without. 

Hendery arched his back, shifting the angle of Lucas’s cock in him with a pleased sigh, grinding down onto him and milking Lucas’s orgasm until Lucas was whining from the overstimulation.

Hendery huffed out an amused noise, and in retaliation Lucas picked up stroking him off, his free hand holding Hendery down on his cock. Lucas pumped Hendery fast and tight until Hendery was squirming against him, searching for relief, feeling like he was on _fire_ , heat building, building, _building_ in his gut until he was cuming with a broken-off cry, coating Lucas’s hand in ropes of thick white, back arched like a strung bow.

Lucas nosed along Hendery’s jaw with a happy little hum, allowing Hendery to tilt his head with a gentle touch so Hendery could brush their mouths together in a soft kiss.

“Still mad with me?” Lucas teased, voice a rumble vibrating between their chests.

Hendery snorted, draped boneless against Lucas like a blanket, too tired to move, let alone get up and clean...everything, like he should.

Themselves, the floor, the dead body a room over.

“No,” Hendery sighed magnanimously, tucking himself under Lucas’s chin, sated and pleasantly exhausted, a moment away from purring like a cat. “I guess I’m not.”

**The Twentieth**

_This has to be how cat owners feel_ , Hendery thought mildly, a tingle of pleased happiness flickering in his chest, _when their cat brings home a kill to show them_.

“Well?” Lucas asked, still slightly out of breath from hustling Hendery through the home serving as their B&B and into their woods-facing backyard space. He stepped close, warm against Hendery’s back, wrapping his arms around Hendery’s waist and tucking his face close to the curve of Hendery’s ear. When he spoke, his breath ghosted along Hendery’s skin, sending a shiver rippling down Hendery’s spine. “What d’you think?”

Hendery stared down at the body laid out before him, set on three layers of plastic sheeting that fluttered in the light breeze.

The face was beaten in, a mess of pulverized flesh and blood, bits of shattered skull peeking through, flashing a pale yellow in the dying evening light. The body, spattered with dark, drying blood and gore matter, was whole and mostly fine—it’s main attraction the jagged line that had been sliced across the body’s abdomen.

It looked...a bit like a smile. There were even two bloody marks for the eyes.

“Are those…” Hendery’s mouth twitched. “Is that a smiley face?”

Lucas rocked them in a gentle sway, side-to-side, side-to-side. “Thought it was a nice touch. Since, you know, his face is a little…”

Lucas trailed off, turning to press what felt like a wry smile against Hendery’s neck. Hendery snorted, leaning back into Lucas’s chest, placing his hands over Lucas’s arms where they were hugging Hendery close.

“It’s an improvement,” Hendery said, thinking of the man—dead now, but an asshole when he’d been alive—who’d leered at Hendery the entire duration of his three-day stay, and then had the nerve to try and corner Hendery the night before he’d left.

He’d had an inflated ego for how plain his face was, and he’d been rude to the girls who came by to cook on the weekends.

“You could’ve done more.”

“Nah,” Lucas said, loosening his hold on Hendery and stepping to the side. He brought a hand up to cup Hendery’s cheek, tilting Hendery’s face towards him. “I thought you deserved the honors.”

A giddy sort of excitement zipped through Hendery then, bright and sharp and feral.

He grinned, reaching up to grab fistfuls of Lucas’s shirt—a cheap blue tee that Lucas had many of; made of cloth that caught fire easily and burned til there was nothing—and hauled Lucas in for a bruising kiss.

Their teeth clacked together, Lucas hissing in pain even as he pulled Hendery closer, kissed him deeper, his tongue sliding into Hendery’s mouth with a low, rumbling moan.

“Have I told you lately that I love you?” Hendery panted into the heated air between them, lips tingling and cock filling out in the confines of his jeans. He felt like a livewire, bare and sparking, coming to life under the dark hunger of Lucas’s gaze.

Lucas grinned back, teeth flashing in the evening light, looking rakish with the shadows that caught and pooled in the dips under his brows, along the line of his nose, off the edge of his cheekbones.

“Everyday.” He leaned down for another kiss, this one gentler, less frantic, but just as breathtaking. “But, you could always say it more.”

Hendery laughed, pecking the corner of Lucas’s mouth, his nose, his cheeks. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

Lucas melted a little at that, likely coming down from his own adrenaline high now that his gift had been given and loved, his half of the hunt done.

“Happy Anniversary,” he breathed.

The wind rustled around them, the plastic sheets weighed down with the dead fluttering as if to remind that it was there, waiting.

Ten years, Hendery thought, accepting the hunting knife Lucas gave him and pulling him down into one last enamoured kiss.

He smiled when they parted, the ring box hidden away in his side of the dresser flitting through his mind.

“Happy Anniversary.”

**Author's Note:**

> If you got this far and enjoyed, a kudos/comment/bookmark can go a long way to letting me know! 
> 
> [twt](https://twitter.com/nu_exooo)


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